I wanted to write something new, but there is nothing new to write about

The first thing I ever wrote is the same as the last thing, so
the subject and its author all ragged pathetic an orphaned kid
and a stray dog staring at each other maybe
explaining to passersby at a train station to nowhere
passersby don’t care because it’s. not. their. fault. no more
was the principal of my elemenatry school going to go home
with me to make Sgt. Riley stop killing me, it didn’t matter then and it definitely doesn’t matter now, so
all that’s left is to organize my courage the story is over there is
nothing. left. to. write. about. i already told this story, the subject and its author are the same quarter century to half century to three quarters century it doesn’t matter it’s the same grief, no more experiments,
no more anxiety thunderstorms, no more no more. i’ve lived a full lifetime just like all the really smart people do i’m looking over DFW’s shoulder, smelling his hair, wondering, organizing my courage…

it’s like those few minutes before i fall asleep and i’m absolutely sure im drowning but im not drowning im just sleeping just a few minutes until i fall asleep. a whole day of fearing sleep, seconds before, a heart thrashes chewing my eyes open but it can’t last, sleep is inevitable, one way or another, this is going to end.